


Locks

by cross



Category: Persona 2
Genre: Childhood, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Hair, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:11:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cross/pseuds/cross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only time Junko bonded with her son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locks

Jun flinched whenever his mother said his name, because harsh scoldings tended to follow it, whether he had done something to deserve a reprimand or not. It was easier to avoid her altogether, especially when he had a better mother waiting at Araya, who protected him and played with him and acknowledged him beyond a purse of her lips and a sour mutter of "Oh, it's you", which is the most Junko would give him on any day. It was easier to smile when he didn't have to see her at all and could spend his afternoons with Maya, who would read him poetry and help him pick the prettiest flowers to braid into Lisa's soft blonde hair and assist Tatsuya in chasing off any bullies.

Yet no matter how badly Junko treated her son, he was fascinated by her; perhaps it was because they looked so much alike. Not the same, not doppelgangers, but a glance in any mirror was enough to see that he was his mother's son whether he wanted to be or not, and he couldn't help that his hair just _grew_ that way and that combing it otherwise or pinning it up created a look so ridiculous that even an eight-year-old couldn't tolerate it. She often caught him watching her brush her hair, so long it was closing in on the back of her thighs, and she was the first to admit that maintaining it was a hellish exercise in patience, but insisted that beauty came with a price. She brushed it each morning before she left the house to avoid her husband and son for as many hours of the day as she could manage. Jun wasn't allowed to leave on his own; he had to wait for her to leave before sneaking out to meet Tatsuya halfway to the shrine. He could have sat in front of the television, but he was more content to sit outside her bedroom and watch as she dragged the bristly brush through her locks to make it as smooth and shiny as a movie star's.

Junko could see him in the mirror behind her. "What do you want?" she snapped. "I'm busy."

Jun went rigid and hugged his knees to his chest. She scared him more than he wanted to admit, because he had heard from other kids that mothers were supposed to be kind, not frightening. "Sorry, Mama...I was just watching."

"If you don't have anything better to do, then..." She sighed and laid her brush down on the vanity, examining her manicured nails rather than looking at him. "Come here."

He rose shakily and warily, and his knees wobbled as he approached her. He feared what would happen if he disobeyed. But instead of yelling or ordering him out of her sight, she handed him her brush.

"You can do that much, can't you? Be gentle with the tangles." Without another glance at him she uncapped lipstick from her makeup bag and began applying it.

Jun hesitated, and reached for a lock of her hair. He combed the bristles of the brush through it as softly as he could muster, flinching again when he reached a tangle but carefully untangling it and sparing his mother's scalp any pain. Junko watched him out of the corner of her eye, as if she was waiting for him to screw up, but when she found herself pleased with his effort, she remained silent and returned to applying her makeup.

It wasn't much of anything. It wasn't as if she was speaking to him, or even acknowledging that he was there beyond something of a tool for getting her ready and out of the house faster, but it was _something_ , and Jun was content to finish the job for her to the best of his ability. He couldn't reach the top of her head, but she didn't seem to mind. When he finished, he laid the brush next to her hand on the vanity, and waited in silence for her next instruction.

She said nothing and brushed a few finishing touches into her hair before snapping her makeup bag shut and slipping into a pair of heels. Jun winced when she slammed the bedroom door shut behind her. He hadn't expected a "thank you" or a "good job, son", though it would have been nice. But even better than that, she asked him to brush it again the next day, and the day after.


End file.
